


I Wish to Go to the Festival!

by Daryl_Grimes (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)



Series: Faerie Tale AUs [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Beating, Cinderella Elements, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Male Cinderella, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4094296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Daryl_Grimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl Dixon is a slave for his brother and Father. The King is throwing a festival to find his son, Prince Rick a new husband. His grandson, Prince Carl, is on the look out for a possible budding bride for the future.</p><p>But maybe, just maybe, after a mysterious dance, Prince Rick isn't interested in the men of nobility anymore.</p><p>
  <em>I have finally returned! I decided to start off with a smaller fic I had, and to rewrite and finish this and my other faerie tale AU. First four chapters have been completely rewritten and my plot changed ever so slightly.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Daryl’s arms complained as he scrubbed the wooden floor as hard as he could. He glared daggers at the slightly warped wood underneath him – why did he have to do this for the _fourth_ time in just as many days? It wasn’t like the whole house got covered in mud over night.  
  
Upstairs, the laughed of Merle and his Father floated down the stairs into the basement, laughing over the Festival that would begin in just a few hours.  
  
_Suppose if yer complete all yer chores by the time the clock chimes eight, yer can come t’the Festival with us.  
  
_ Truthfully, Darly didn’t even _want_ to go to the damn Festival. It was some massive over-populated ball to find the Prince a husband now that he had officially come out as a gay. He had an heir with his Princess, and they’d divorced in secret for unknown reasons. Rumour was the Princess had an affair with the King’s Head Guard and the Prince had caught them in the act. The heir to the Throne was no doubt the Prince’s, however, and it had been a formality sorted in order to ensure that everyone involved in the family drama was happy.  
  
If he were honest to himself, the only reason he wanted to go to the damn Festival was for a change of scenery. He was sick of the too-large house he lived in; it was always dirty, dusty, and dark. It was disgusting, and he was sick of cleaning it every waking hour he endued. He didn’t even get to go into the garden much – the much too big garden that Daryl was sure he still hadn’t explored the whole of.  
  
“He ain’t getting t’that Festival.”  
  
Daryl’s eyes cut across to the door at the top of the basement stairs, glaring daggers at the voice of his brother.  
  
Merle and his Father had been… less than evil to Daryl since his Mother had died. They treated him like a slave, no, they treated him like he wasn’t even human; simply because he had a different Father. Maybe, just maybe, if his Father were the man upstairs, he’d be treated the same as his older brother.  
  
Guilt flared up in Daryl’s stomach when he realised once again that part of him hated his Mother for he curse she had put on him. Still, he loved her more than anything or anyone, and so he did what the two men ordered him to do.  
  
_“Always be good to them; they may be cruel to you, my boy, but in the end, they will be the ones worse off.” Her hand would cup his chin, lifting him so she could tend to the forming black eye Merle had just inflicted on him. “You must be better than them and grow to be a kind and strong young man. Who knows? Maybe one day you might marry out of the family and leave all of this behind.”  
  
_ Footsteps on the stairs caused Daryl to flinch ever so slightly, and he stared hard at the floor, as if trying to get it to ignite under hand. His elbows and shoulders were aching, muscles twinging, but he refused to stop, forcing himself to scrub slightly harder.  
  
“Yer working hard there?”  
  
Daryl decided not to answer, working on the same patch.  
  
“Yer ain’t going t’the Festival.”  
  
Daryl looked up at his Father, arm finally stopping as he stared. “But I did all mah chores!”  
  
His Father snorted, and began walking across the cellar, pacing slightly.  
  
“Yer? At the Festival?” His Father let out a laugh that wouldn’t be out of place in a horror performance. “The King is looking fer a marriage fer his son and a possible match fer his grandson. Look at ya; yer an embarrassment. Ev’ryone there would be uncomfortable just looking at ya. Greasy hair, dirty fingers, ripped clothes… Yer’d make us the fools of the Festival and mortify the King and the Princes. Yer an embarrassment to yer Mother’s name.”  
  
Daryl flinched at his words and stared back at the wet patch of wood in front of him. The sound of his Father heading back upstairs allowed tears to begin to prick in his eyes.  
  
He wasn’t sure why his tears had begun to slide down his face. It wasn’t unusual for them to break their promises like this – in fact, it was almost a rite of passage. It wasn’t unusual for his Father to use his Mother against him like that, either. He was used to being called his Mother’s embarrassment, it reflected off thick skin now.  
  
But here his tears fell, thick and fast, making soft noises on the wood as they fell. Daryl scrubbed his hand across his face and sniffed hard as he heard the front door slam.  
  
No, no; tonight was something they wouldn’t take away from him. He was going to get to the Festival; he was sure of that. It was _how_ he was going to do it, which was the question. Clearing his throat, he thought hard, before it seemed to come to him.  
  
“Mother would know what to do… I’ll go visit her grave!”  
  
Tugging his apron from his skinny frame, Daryl’s feet pounded on the stairs as he rushed upstairs. He paused just long enough to check that the carriage was gone – it was almost at the bottom of the driveway, and Daryl ran to the kitchen and out the back door. His lungs took gasps of fresh air as he sprinted to the back wall. Dropping to his knees, Daryl carefully pushed the vines out the way, finding the small gap he wormed his way out of usually, and quickly got out before sprinting into the woods beyond.

 

-xox-

 

Daryl knelt at the bottom of the jasmine tree, smiling at the blooming flowers, soft colours welcoming him to the area.  
  
His Mother had been named Jasmine, and the flowers were often her favourites; it had only seemed appropiate to plant a jasmine tree at the head of her grave.  
  
The small cemetery hidden in the woods was empty, save for Daryl himself, and he sat cross-legged, watching flower petals blow past him in the wind.  
  
“They still treat me like a slave, Momma. Today, they made me scrub every single floor, even though I did it yesterday _and_ the day before.” He sighed softly. “Merle even scuffed up some o’the floors after I did then, making me redo them. And they _promised_! They _promised_ if I finished the floors and mah chores, they would take me t’the King’s Festival! I did them all and they just laughed in mah face.”  
  
Daryl looked at the ground, sighing softly. “I just want t’go t’the Festival. Just fer one night. I know it’s on fer three nights but just one night away from home… it would be amazing, Momma.”  
  
Daryl jumped to his feet, staring at the ground. Almost as soon as he had finished speaking, a fog had begun to creep around him, covering the ground completely. Jasmine petals began to swirl around in a circle, one that couldn’t be down to nature. Daryl stared in shock as the petals fell to the floor almost as quickly as they had been swept up, a woman appearing where they had been.  
  
“Who are yer..? Where did yer come from?”  
  
“My name is Gelsey; your mother sent me. I am, as some would say, a faerie. Others, a faerie godmother. Myself, a helping hand.”  
  
“How did my Mother send yer?” Daryl blinked at her, breathing heavily. “What is this, Cinderella?”  
  
She frowned softly, as though she were tired of something. “I am here to help you, Daryl.”  
  
Daryl stared at her pale grey dress, shimmering softly in the dim light. Her feet were bare, and- she was floating off the ground. There was a simple band around her forehead, something like he had seen elves wear in those old fantasy books. He gawped at her face, and it seemed to constantly shimmer and change – but Daryl could recognise a likeness to his Mother.  
  
“You wish to go to the King’s Festival?”  
  
“Yeah… Yeah I do. But what are yer gonna do about it?”  
  
Her hand raised and there was a cold swirl of wind surrounding him. Fog and jasmine petals swirled around him and Daryl ended up coughing, feeling heavily claustrophobic.  
  
As quickly as it started, it had disappeared, and Daryl looked down at himself in shock.  
  
A pale silver suit adorned his body, a pale blue bowtie around his neck. Smart black shoes protected his feet from the ground that had previously caused them pain. Glinting silver cuff links, shaped like flowers, glittered in the light.  
  
“Run to the Festival now, Daryl, the first night starts shortly.”  
  
Daryl looked up at her, blinking a moment. “T-Thank you Gelsey… Thank you so much.”  
  
Before she could say anything else, he turned and ran in the direction of the Palace, lit up in the distance.


	2. Chapter 2

Prince Rick made his way to the stairs of the Great Hall, holding on tightly to his son’s hand. The teenager was still young, merely 15 years old, and Rick didn’t quite appreciate his Father wanting Carl to be betrothed so young. He had done it himself – and by the age of 19, he had two children.   
  
Children that he barely got to see as it was.  
  
That was the reason, he assumed, he was slightly happy about this. He got to spend most of the night with Carl, keeping his son safe.  
  
Looking down, Rick found Carl staring up at him, eyes wide with fright. Balls were no new thing to him, but something like this, for him to find a _wife_ , was too much for him. Smiling as best he could, Rick knelt down to smile at his son.  
  
“You’re going to be fine, Carl.”  
  
The teen hid himself in his Father’s neck, and Rick looked to the side at the masses of people already dancing and laughing around the ballroom.  
  
It was mostly men, and yet there were still masses of women there, looking around his age. Of course, they were here to _try_ and betroth him; it wouldn’t happen.  
  
The truth was, since Lori had left him for Shane, his Father’s _Knight_ of all people, women had seemed to lose their appeal. He had tried with a great many maids around the palace, yet nothing ever seemed to work for him. Confused, and slightly drunk one night, he’d made off with a butler, and things had sparked into place.  
  
He had heirs, Carl would produce his own – his own Father was more than happy with the set up, and there had been no arguments or qualms. The Kingdom had readily accepted Rick’s homosexuality and there seemed to be no trouble of the sort.   
  
The music changed, a more upbeat tempo and the guests laughed even louder, getting into the swing of dancing and Rick forced himself to stand, squeezing his son’s hand.  
  
“We can do this, Carl. We’re Princes, are we not?”  
  
Carl looked up at his Father, smiling wide. He squeezed his Father’s hand before taking a breath. He brushed his suit down, and then moved to stand at the top of the other staircase that slowly spiralled down into the ball room.  
  
Rick’s hand found the bannister, and then the music stopped as a fan fare sounded.  
  
“Introducing to the Great Hall, Prince Richard, and Prince Carl.”  
  
Applause started up and Rick took a breath as he set his foot on the stair, making his way down.

 

-xox-

 

People were fawning at the Prince and Rick flinched back from almost all of them. Most of the women that fluttered their eyelashes he ignored, brushed them off with a gentle smile before moving away from them. Currently, he was dancing with a young Duchess by the name of Maggie Greene; her family had been Dukes and Duchesses for centuries, and she was a welcome distraction from the heavy pressure to choose a husband tonight.  
  
Maggie was laughing as they spun around, a hand on his shoulder. It was gentle, like a friend would hold a shoulder during a dance, and Rick gladly looked around as they spun. Carl seemed quite happy dancing around with Beth – Maggie’s younger sister and only a few years older than Carl.  
  
Rick could be happy with that betrothal.   
  
“At least one of the Princes is happy.”  
  
Rick rose an eyebrow, turning to watch her eyes through the pale green mask she wore.  
  
“You’ve been moping all night,” she paused as he spun her around before the music stopped. “Cheer up; there’ll be someone.” She winked and disappeared.  
  
Rick watched her disappear through the crowd before making his way towards the drinks table to find some punch, or something stronger. His suit felt too tight, and he was highly uneasy with the amount of masked people around him whilst his own face was on show.  
  
A masquerade ball had not been Rick’s idea, in fact, he’d tried to convince his Father otherwise – the risk of an assassination attempt was high, but his Father had insisted.  
  
Sighing heavily, Rick managed to make it to the drinks table, grabbing the first glass he came across. He sipped at the cold liquid – peach punch – and watched the dance floor.   
  
Lori and Shane were spinning around to the new song, smiling at each other; Rick kept an eye on Shane’s sword, praying it wouldn’t skewer a guest. Judith, his daughter and youngest child, only seven years old, was being spun around by Glenn, one of the kitchen boys.  
  
Glenn was a good friend to Rick, he always had been, and he trusted him with his children as if Glenn were their Father.  
  
Looking around for Carl, he got distracted by a tall man, making his way through the crowd. A silver suit clung to his body, and his face was hidden by a mask around the eyes, silver, with grey sequin detail. A thin piece of elastic kept it attached to his head, and Rick raised an eyebrow.  
  
Leaning on the table, he watched the Masked Man make it to the drinks table, peering over the collection of glasses there. He seemed to sense eyes on him, and he turned to meet Rick’s eyes.  
  
Rick felt like he was drowning. His eyes were the most beautiful blue colour; they were wide, and long eyelashes decorated them, blinking slightly rapidly. Colour seemed to have drained from the Masked Man’s cheeks and Rick offered a small smile.  
  
He downed the last of his drink and Rick decided to just go for it.  
  
Standing so that he no longer leaned – _not quite a Princely thing to do_ – he offered his hand to the Masked Man with another gentle smile. “How about a dance?”  
  
The Masked Man stiffened, unsure how to react before he slowly placed his hand in Rick’s.  
  
The Prince smiled softly and pulled him close to him, hand resting on the small of the Masked Man’s back, immediately spinning them around in time to the music.  
  
“What’s your name?”  
  
The Masked Man grinned a little. “That kinda defeats t’idea of having a mask, don’t it?”  
  
Rick laughed softly, intrigued by the way the man spoke. He definitely was not a man of a royal family. “I suppose you’re right.”  
  
His arm tightened around the man, holding him closer as they continued to swirl in a circle around the dance floor. “However, it doesn’t quite seem fair that you get to see my face and I don’t get to see yours...”  
  
The Masked Man smiled, mischevy glinting in his eyes. “Everyone would know yer with or without a mask. Yer got those pearly blues… no mistaking ‘em.”  
  
Rick shrugged a little, and nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”  
  
“I know I’m right.”  
  
Rick couldn’t help but laugh again, smiling at him, tugging him as close as possible so their suit-clad chests met.  
  
“I do have to say though...”

 

-xox-

 

Daryl couldn’t help but shudder as the Prince’s breath tickled his ears, finding his breathing to be shallow.  
  
“You are definitely the most handsome man here.”  
  
Daryl stopped moving. He stopped swaying and he stepped back, taking the Prince by surprise, making him drop his hands.  
  
“I can’t do this.”  
  
The Prince – _Richard –_ frowned and took a step forward.  
  
Panic hit Daryl like a wall.  
  
He turned and rushed through the crowd. His heart beat fast in his chest and he found that he was struggling to breathe. This could _not_ happen – no, no this _wasn’t_ happening. The Prince had bumped into Merle earlier and it was all just a practical joke. God knows how Merle knew he was here but it was all just a practical joke.  
  
Daryl caught his arm on someone and turned quickly, fear only worsening when he saw Merle tug his mask off.  
  
“Where the fuck yet think yer going?”  
  
Merle raised his hand to punch Daryl and Daryl prepared himself, only to jump when a voice came from behind him, a hand grabbing Merle’s fist.  
  
“Do not harm this man.”  
  
Prince Richard was behind him, frowning deeply at Merle.  
  
Before anyone could react to what was happening, Daryl took the opportunity to rush past his brother and through the open doors of the Palace, and down the steps that arched delicately to the pavement.   
  
He tripped on a crack and grunted, landing heavily in a pile on the floor. He could hear voices – mainly, _Richard’s_ voice – and he stumbled up. He tore his mask off and sprinted, letting the tears flow down his face.  
  
Who could ever think he was beautiful?

 

-xox-

  


Rick ran after the man as fast as he could, trying to call out for him. Either his voice was drowned out by the sounds of the Festival behind him, or the Masked Man ignored him completely. He stopped rushing, watching him run into the distance and disappear.  
  
Slowly, he came to a stop, only to feel his foot connect with something.  
  
Looking down, Rick frowned when he saw the beautiful, delicate mask thrown away so violently. It lay sadly in a puddle from last night’s rain. The elastic had snapped, and it seemed to be lonely, laying where it was.  
  
Leaning down, Rick picked it up and brushed the dirt off, putting it in his pocket before he disappeared back inside to find his son.


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl slammed the door to his room open, panting hard with burning lungs. Leaning against the first wall he found, he stared at the floor as he struggled to control his breathing. Merle and his Father would be home at any moment and he had to change.   
  
Glancing at the silver suit on his body, he shot forward to his bed and wardrobe.  
  
The buttons wouldn’t undo, and so Daryl merely tore the suit apart to throw it into the back of the wardrobe.  
  
Hearing the front door open, he panicked. He shoved one of his too-big shirts on and dived under the scratchy covers of his bed before clenching his eyes shut. He did his best to control his breathing, forcing it to even out.  
  
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs and Daryl forced himself not to panic. Merle would be pissed about what had happened at the festival – the Prince himself had stopped him from punching someone – and no doubt that anger would be taken out on Daryl.  
  
His bedroom door opened and Daryl hunched up slightly, pretending his best to be asleep.  
  
“Leave him. He’s been ‘ere all night. Give it t’im in the mornin’.”  
  
Merle snorted, but to Daryl’s surprise, they let him be; the door banging shut behind them.  
  
Daryl stayed in bed, refusing to move other than to breathe for a few moments to ensure that Merle hadn’t slunk into his room and was lurking in the shadows. After a minute of silence, he got up and moved across his small attic room to curl up on the window sill. He stared out at the night, at the Palace in the distance, still lit up like a fireworks show.  
  
The Prince thought that I was beautiful…

  


-xox-

The next day went relatively quickly, and this time, Daryl didn’t even try to go to the Festival. He did his chores, and finished before the clock struck 10, and was asleep in bed before the chime of 11.  
  
He dreamt of the Prince, dancing him around the Palace ballroom, laughing with him.  
  
He woke up in the morning feeling lonely.  
  
That day went quickly too, and again, Daryl finished his chores before the chime of 10 and then was on his way to bed, when the sound of the front door slamming open jerked him out of his thoughts; his hopes that he would dream about the Prince again that night.  
  
The sound of Merle and his Father talking on the floor below him filled his ears and Daryl rubbed his face. He tried to listen, but he couldn’t make out any words.  
  
Closing his eyes and praying for the best, there was a flash of pale blue eyes – the same eyes that had been dancing through his thoughts all day.  
  
“Daryl! Get yer arse down here!”  
  
Daryl groaned under his breath and turned back down the steps to the second floor, having been half way up them. Untying the short, brown ribbon from his wrist, he used it to tie his unruly hair back from his face before he headed downstairs. He licked his lips, taking deep breaths to calm himself down before he walked into the kitchen. He immediately set a fire to start cooking.  
  
“Can’t believe the Prince is het up over some bloke no one knows.”  
  
Daryl almost immediately froze up.  
  
“Did yer hear tonight?” His Father returned Merle’s conversation starter. “Numerous men asked to dance with ‘im, but none were The Silver Masked Man from Friday night.”  
  
Daryl blushed a little and forced himself to focus on the pot in front of him.  
  
“I tell yer, the King is lucky ‘e got Carl and that brat Judith. Richard ain’t giving him any more kids. Someone heard him tell this guy ‘e was the most beautiful guy there. Wouldn’t look at anyone else and even chased the guy outside when he tried to leave – after he bashed into me.”  
  
“’e’s a Prince, give him ‘is title.”  
  
Daryl froze the moment the words left his mouth, not realising he had even considered speaking out loud. He fought to keep his hands from shaking as he began adding ingredients to the boiling water inside the pot.  
  
“What did yer say?”  
  
Staying quiet was definitely no longer an option.  
  
“I said that he’s a Prince, and he deserves his title and yer respect.”  
  
“Why should I respect ‘im?”  
  
“Because ‘e’s gonna be King someday, and he might not take kindly t’yer.”  
  
The fist collided with side of his mouth before Daryl could register it moving, and Daryl fell to the ground, the taste of blood filling his mouth. He choked a little on the iron, coughing hard. A tooth dislodged, and Daryl spat it out, noting the small pat of it hitting the floor.   
  
There was no time to defend himself as Merle’s foot collided with his stomach, sending Daryl to his side. He quickly curled up in the foetal position, and tears poured down his face with every blow. Daryl did everything he could to defend himself – but he couldn’t protect his stomach and his face at the same time.  
  
A foot collided with his head, hard, and Daryl’s vision went black for a moment.  
  
Laying on the floor, he was dazed, staring at the wall.  
  
“Don’t kill ‘im, Jesus Christ, Merle.”  
  
Daryl could feel blood slipping down his face from his nose, and his mouth, and from various small cuts on his forehead. Each breath juddered in his chest and it hurt to.  
  
Before anyone could do anything, there were three sharp knocks on the door and they pounded inside Daryl’s head. His vision blackened for a second again and he groaned.  
  
“Get the damn door, Merle. I’ll deal with ‘im.”  
  
Daryl was lifted, bridal style, and carried upstairs. Each jolt went through his body, making him feel ill, and then there was softness underneath him and he wheezed. His eyes darted around, taking in pale yellow walls, and a pink bedspread.  
  
His Father had brought him to his Mother’s separate bedrom.  
  
“Stay alive whilst I send fer a healer, would ya?”  
  
Footsteps thudded out of the room and back down the stairs, and Daryl gladly let exhaustion and pain knock him to black.

  


-xox-

  


__Daryl was falling.__  
  
The world around him was dark, comforting.  
  
He wasn’t in pain any more; the bleeding had stopped, and his head wasn’t aching.  
  
He could live like this, happily.  
  
Eternal blackness. Eternal slumber.  
  
Then, there was a flash of pale, pale blue and Daryl felt himself being lifted, and then he was being carried.

  


_-xox-_

  


“What happened to him?”  
  
The sound of a male voice, desperate, scared, upset, echoed around Daryl’s head, and he groaned a little bit. The voice sounded familiar, but Daryl couldn’t place it.  
  
“’e was disobedient, so my son taught ‘im a lesson.”  
  
“Disobedient? A lesson? Your son is not a slave.”  
  
“e’s not my son.”  
  
Slowly, Daryl managed to open his eyes, staring blurring at the man who’s lap he was sat in. Richard?  
  
“Either I’m dead or dreaming… what’s the Crown Prince doing by mah bedside?”  
  
The Prince looked down, alarmed for a mere moment, before he smiled softly at the man in his lap. He gently caressed Daryl’s cheek.   
  
“I came looking for the man I spent dancing the night away with, and now, watching your eyes, I do believe I have found him.”  
  
Merle barked out a laugh, and Daryl realised he had been in the room all the time.  
  
“Impossible. My brother weren’t at the Festival on Friday. He’s never been.”  
  
“Oh, but he was. I recognise those eyes anywhere.”  
  
Slowly, Richard helped Daryl to sit up, gently rubbing his back to help him relax. Daryl watched the Prince stare at his family before demanding they leave. They hesitated before they bowed their heads, leaving the room.  
  
Daryl gladly leant into the Prince’s chest, relaxing in his warmth. He took a deep breath, inhaling the man’s scent – and God, did the Prince smell amazing.  
 _  
_ Silence filled the room and then Daryl squeaked in surprise as a soft pair of lips were pressed against his own.


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl stared up Prince Richard, slightly breathless. The Prince stared back. Daryl found it hard to breathe – but he decided to peg that as because of the injuries he had sustained to his chest.   
  
The man above him was smiling, thumb still caressing his cheek.  
  
“Why me, Richard?”  
  
“ _Rick_ , please.”  
  
“Why me, _Rick_?”  
  
Rick shrugged in reply, looking around the room for a moment before leaning back to watch Daryl on the bed.  
  
“There was just something about you at the Festival on Friday. You weren’t there for attention; you weren’t there to find someone to love you or try to marry yourself off. You were there to enjoy yourself.” Rick’s eyes glanced at the floor below them. “You were there to escape.”  
  
Daryl looked away, finding that he couldn’t bring himself to look at the Prince that was holding him close.  
  
“Your eyes… when I first looked into them… I felt like I was drowning. I was lost at sea, held in your gaze… and I just knew I wanted to be close to you. You were the most beautiful person there… I-I’m afraid I still don’t know your name.”  
  
Silence filled the room before Daryl cleared his throat. “Daryl Dixon.”  
  
“Dixon?” Rick frowned softly. “That name rings a bell.”  
  
“My Mother was a famous seamstress in the village; she did a few gowns fer Princess Lori. My great-grandfather was a Duke, but he lost his title. The people didn’t like him.”  
  
Rick smiled softly and gently cupped Daryl’s cheek again. “I mean no offence but, if your great-grandfather was anything like your Father and brother, then I can understand why the people didn’t like him.”  
  
Daryl chuckled softly, breaking into a smile. “Yer can say that again.”  
  
Rick smiled again and then fell silent, as though he were trying to think of the words to say. “Daryl… Daryl come away with me. Court me, let me take you away from here. I can give you two wonderful children and we could even marry in the future. You could be a King.” Rick licked his lips.  
“Even if you don’t want to court me, let me take you away. I could find you a position in the Palace, keep you safe there.”  
  
“Yer don’t even know me!” Daryl shot from the bed, eyes wide as he tried not to panic. This was happening too quickly; much, much too quickly. He felt ill. He needed to think. “You didn’t even know mah name until two minutes ago! Yer don’t know anything about me, mah story, who I am – heck, I could be a criminal fer all yer know!”  
  
“Are you?”  
  
“Am I what?”  
  
“A criminal?”  
  
Daryl paused and watched the Prince, still sitting on the bed. “No, I ain’t, but how do yer know I’m telling the truth? Would a criminal tell the Crown Prince of their crimes?”  
  
“Daryl,” Rick stood, seeming to be extremely calm. “These are the reasons I wish to court you. I wish to know the things about you, the secret things that you’ve never told another living soul. I wish to know your past, and integrate myself with your present and future. I wish to make you one of the happiest men in this land.”  
  
Daryl’s breath caught in his throat. Rick was saying such nice things, such kindness… things that he hadn’t really heard since his Mother died nearly ten years ago.  
  
“Let me show you what it’s like to be _loved_ , Daryl. Let me take you away from this horrible place. Let me show you what it’s like to be a part of a _family_.”  
  
Tears began to well in Daryl’s eyes as Rick – _the Prince_ – moved forward, nothing but kindness and hope in his eyes.  
  
“Please, Daryl.”  
  
Daryl wasn’t aware of his head nodding, or his feet moving as he threw himself at Rick, being enveloped in a warm, tight hug. It felt right here, it felt like _home_. Strong hands rubbed his back as the tears started flowing, soaking into the Prince’s silken shoulder, not that Rick seemed to care.  
  
It dawned on Daryl that, if it were possible to die of happiness, he’d be lost to the world.

  


-xox-

  


Daryl stared out from the balcony, taken aback from the glory of the Kingdom surrounding him. It had been two weeks since he moved in to the Palace, two weeks since he had woken up to this, and still, it surprised him every morning.  
  
Mountains, topped with pristine white snow caps, loomed over the Kingdom. It snowed heavily up there, but it never reached the valley until the winter months came, freezing the lake and allowing ice skating. Bursts of green dotted the white expanse, getting thicker and thicker as it reached the bottom, only for a woods to blossom at the base of the mountains. Currently, it was a thicket of orange, yellow and brown; the leaves had been changing the past week, the fore coming of the autumn months about to arrive on their doorsteps.  
  
The woods thinned out eventually, turning into the lake. It was crystal clear, all the time, and even this far away, Daryl could see fish leaping out the water. A waterfall stood at one end, rushing more and more pristine water into the lake.  
  
Next to the lake, bloomed a field full of marvellous flowers – precious pinks, pristine purples, and beautiful blues bloomed under the sun, their bright colours attracting numerous wildlife to it. The field itself was used for horse riding, or a romantic picnic date, depending on who you were.  
  
The village that Daryl used to attend with his Mother was busy – although Daryl thought that everyone looked quite like a colony of ants. The market would be in full swing this Saturday; everyone would be trying to get their shopping done for roast dinners tomorrow.  
  
And then there was the castle itself.  
  
The dark grey stone stood out upon the landscape behind it, giving it a dark, ethereal look – however, this was combatted with mixes of bright blooms upon every and any surface they could be hung.  
  
Sighing happily, Daryl turned back to the doors he had walked out of, and back to the bed he had _owned_ for the past two weeks.  
  
Rick was there, still asleep, laying on his side. His back was to Daryl, his face to the edge of the bed. His breathing was slow, deep, and his back was still red. Daryl flushed when he realised they were scratch marks from their… _activities_ the night before. Their love making the night before had truly exhausted them both, and Daryl smiled fondly, blushing again.  
  
Of course, they weren’t supposed to be making love, not until they were married, but Rick had all but insisted it didn’t matter, it was only a formality and that no one would know. Reassurance that it would be okay was all Daryl had needed.  
  
Slowly walking around the bed, Daryl smiled at the thought of how many nights the two had lay there, discussing their lives, their pasts, their memories, hopes and dreams. His hand reached out to gently drag along Rick’s side, before he knelt down to gently kiss him.  
  
It took a few more gentle lip pecks before Rick groaned a little. He rolled onto his back to rub his face before looking to the side, and at Daryl, with a gentle smile on his face.   
  
Rick leaned in and kissed Daryl, hard, passionate.   
  
Daryl forgot how to breathe and moved to gently slide on top of his Prince. Rick’s hands drifted up over the loose shirt that Daryl had put on that morning, his lips descending into a frown as he pulled away a little.  
  
“How long have you been awake?”  
  
“An hour, at least. I was appreciating the Kingdom.”  
  
“For an hour?”  
  
“Or more.”  
  
Daryl smiled softly as Rick’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb rubbing over his cheekbone. Daryl leant his head into Rick’s hand, running his hands up the man’s chest, before a knock on the door made him jump. Rick smiled softly, almost giggling at the jump before he pressed a kiss to his betrothed’s lips. Clearing his throat, his attention turned to the door.  
  
“And who might be disturbing the Prince and his partner this early in the morning?”  
  
“Dad… It’s me…”  
  
Rick frowned at the sound of Carl’s voice, and immediately shifted Daryl off of him. He stood to dress before giving Daryl a sweet smile.  
  
“I have to see to him.” Rick’s lips found Daryl’s again. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”  
  
Daryl nodded and merely waggled his fingers in farewell before he collapsed back on the bed, spread-eagled.  
  
This, he was definitely getting used to.


	5. Chapter 5

The next week passed as a blur. Rick spent less and less time with Daryl, as tradition ruled, and Daryl watched from his balcony as he spent time with his son and daughter. Judith was a young thing, and Daryl couldn’t help but laugh as he watched them run around, playing tag, or hide and seek, and he even went and joined them a few times over the week.   
  
A Father was something Daryl had never considered himself, but he seemed to have a natural click with them both, being a support for Carl – terrified over the concept of marrying Duchess Greene – oh, Daryl, please call me Beth – and being a source of fun for Judith.  
  
He was getting on well with the servants, or rather, the Royal Support as Daryl preferred to call them. Glenn normally delivered Daryl’s food in the evenings, and upon being told to, he’d sat with Daryl. They shared their histories – Glenn’s family had been captured from a village years ago, but the King at the time, Rick’s great-grandfather had taken pity on them and freed them from the family that was cruel to them. They had worked in the Palace ever since.   
  
Carol was Judith’s nurse, always following around with her. Daryl had spoken with her too – she used to be married to a Duke. He was a piece of work and harmed both her and her daughter, and Princess Lori had come across it one night. She banished Duke Peletier from the Kingdom and Carol and her daughter were given the option to stay. Carol had gladly accepted the offer and when Lori fell pregnant with Judith, she’d been asked to be the official royal nurse.   
  
Her own daughter, Sophia, helped Glenn in the kitchens, but could mostly be found playing with Carl, both of them yelling and screaming as they ran around before being told off for being too loud.  
  
Knight Shane… Daryl wasn’t sure if he liked. He seemed quite fierce, very hot-headed, but Daryl assumed that was what made him such a good Knight. In the 16 years he had served for the family, he had never lost a single battle. He protected the Castle and he kept the family inside safe. He offered Daryl half-smiles and awkward grimaces, and Daryl was going to assume that it was his way of a friendly greeting.  
  
Even Princess Lori was wonderful to him. She often came to sit with him and they would talk about Rick. She gave him pointers – Rick **has** to sleep on the left side of the bed; Rick needs at least half an hour to wake up in the morning; Rick could honestly eat for the rest of his life if he tried to – and Daryl would listen patiently.  
  
Princess Lori was the person who had knocked on Daryl’s door mere minutes ago and was currently standing just inside, the door shut behind her. He had been just about to go to bed, a bundle of nerves about his wedding tomorrow, and he didn’t quite appreciate the interruption so late at night.  
  
“I just wanted to come discuss something with you.”  
  
Daryl nodded, swallowing a little as he moved to sit down on the bed. He waved his hand at the numerous chairs around the room, inviting her to sit down; Lori remained standing, wringing her hands.  
  
“This may come as a bit strange from me, and maybe even seen as somewhat aggressive.”  
  
Daryl raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Don’t you dare hurt him, Daryl. Rick is a good man; he’s a good Father, a good lover, and he’ll be a great King. He’s in love with you. He adores you; he looks at you in a way he never looked at me. He trusts you and he wants you around for a long time. He wants you to rule by his side, he wants you to be a stepfather to our children, he wants you.”  
  
Lori paused.  
  
“He really cares about you, Daryl, and I’ve seen him hurt. I’ve seen how badly love can harm him, can send him into a bad spiral, and if you send him into it, I promise you, it won’t be Shane you have to deal with. It will be me.”  
  
She turned and left before Daryl could even comprehend what had just happened. He stared at the door and blinked in shock before he slowly lay down.  
  
Lori’s words followed him into his dreams, and he tossed and turned until he finally reached a deep sleep.

  


-xox-

  


The wedding had gone smoothly, the banquet afterwards was a joyous celebration, and there didn’t seem to be a single sad face within the Kingdom or the Castle. Daryl and Rick had laughed along with each other, sharing food and shoving cake in each other’s faces. They’d even spotted Carl and Beth sharing cake and smiling and laughing.  
  
Now, they were walking hand in hand through one of the many mazes the Castle had to offer it’s inhabitants and visitors. The sky was a deep, dark blue, and stars sparkled down at them, shining as though they were burning only for Daryl and Rick’s eyes.   
  
They walked in silence, arching and curving around hedges before Rick finally cleared his throat.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Daryl looked over with a raised brow, tilting his head a little. “Fer what?”  
  
“Everything you’ve done for me. Everything you’ve done for my children.”  
  
“It’s… it’s really the least I coulda done.”  
  
Rick smiled softly and tugged Daryl close to him as they reached the centre of the maze, swirling him around to invisible music. Daryl gladly rested his head on Rick’s shoulder, closing his eyes. They stayed as close as they could, spinning and arching around the tree in the centre. Rick stepped back to spin Daryl around, making him laugh out loud before he bumped into Rick. His hands rested on the man’s chest and he smiled softly up at him.  
  
They shared a kiss, holding each other tightly before Daryl finally pulled back, mumbling about it being late, and wanting to sleep.  
  
They made their way back to the Palace, hand-in-hand, in almost silence other than a soft remark here and there. They managed to avoid everyone as they returned to their now shared rooms, and they dressed for bed.  
  
Rick blew the candles out and they cuddled softly in bed, tangled together. Daryl lay in silence, listening to the sound of Rick’s heart beating under his ear and he cleared his throat.  
  
“Rick… yer done so much fer me. Yer given me a whole new life… but there’s something I really hav’ta do.”  
  
Rick watched him in the dim light from the balcony door before he gently pressed a stray hair away from his forehead.  
  
“Anything you need...”


End file.
